Before His Fall
by kimcat
Summary: -Warnings- for death, dark themes, and child abuse. A lot of ghosts were humans before they were ghosts, so what in a ghost's life made them the way they are, before their traumatic death and demise? here is a look at one such ghost. (Phic Phight prompt)


**A/N: Takes place somewhere between 1954-1958. ****I did far to much research on this lol, but besides that please note that this is a dark story, and trigger warnings apply.  
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**Before His Fall**

**Original prompt By: GrimGrinningGhoul**. Before The Fall - Pick any ghost from Danny's roster and write about what led up to their death.

**Character list:** Youngblood, (Charlie Young) and a few oc's that comprise up his family

**Categories**: Hurt, Angst, and maybe a just a hint of sweetness. Dark themes.

**Warnings**: Character death, and punch in the gut feels. Dark themes. Post WWII era healthcare. Mentions of child abuse.

**Total word count**: 5,330

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Charlie let out a sigh as he listens to the yelling beneath his feet. It never seems to end.

"You okay, Chuck?" An older, pale-faced blonde asks snapping the smaller child out of his reverie. He had just turned twelve last month and as the oldest, Jayson or Jay, had to help take care of his brothers and sisters. Lord knows their parents weren't going to.

"Yea, just sick of listening to Ma and Pa fighting is all," Charlie sighs at his older brother and turns to face him fully.

Jay nods in understanding, it was harder on all of them when their father was made mad by his wife. "Hey what do you want for your big birthday in a few weeks?" Jay asked hoping to cheer up his brother. "You're finally reaching double digits, you'll get to be my first mate instead of my second in command soon."

Chuck grins at the prospect. "Will I finally get my own hat?"

"Of course."

Suddenly, a soft pitter-patter alerted them to the arrival of the pair's younger sister, Dorothy, or Dot. "Daddy's coming." The six-year-old warned and the older kids' eyes went wide with fear.

The trio jumped apart sliding into their beds within the shared room. If he thought they were asleep he'd pass over them, usually. It didn't take long before the thundering steps of their father could be heard on the staircase, and the door was wrenched open.

Chuck flinched but held his breath, hoping that he'd just leave. "Damn useless kids…" The man muttered. A shrill cry from the room down the hall echoed through the upper floors as the youngest, Edward, at three, was awoken. "Kristy! Get the damn boy!" The man hollered turning on his heel and exiting the room letting the door slam behind him.

They all waited until they were sure he was back downstairs before they sat up again. "Poor Eddy…." Dot mumbled

"He's still really little…. He'll be okay." Jay assured. Chuck let out a cough into his blanket muffling the sound. "You've been coughing like that for almost half a month now Charlie…"

"I'm okay," Chuck responded, waving him off.

"When Ma and Pa go to sleep I'll get you that medicine again. It helped last time right?" Jay asked, concern for his brother on his face.

"Yea, but-"

"Don't worry I won't get caught again…" Jay assured rubbing his arm where a circular burn was still healing on his forearm.

"O-Okay" Chuck relented.

Unfortunately, the oldest sibling of the Young family did get caught by the fuming father. Jay was sporting a good number of welts on his backside where the belt had hit him the next morning, as Chuck looked to his brother apologetically.

"I'm sorry." Chuck offered, there was a slight rasp his in his breathing today, it seemed worse then usual.

"It's okay," Jay said giving his younger brother a smile as they made their way downstairs to breakfast. Dot blasted past them racing with a vigour only she seemed to have in the hot spring morning.

Chuck coughed again as he held tight to the railing, stumbling partially down the stairs. "You okay? You trip?" Jay laughed at his brother's misfortune, grabbing Chuck's arm to help steady him. "Oh wow, your arm is hot!"

"Hot? I don't feel hot. I feel cold." Chuck replied confused.

Jay made a face. "That doesn't make sense. Maybe we should tell Mum?" the twelve-year-old offered uncertainly.

"No! If she thinks I'm sick then I'll gotta stay home from school, and Dad's home all the time now…" Chuck trailed off letting his worry hang. His older brother nodded in understanding.

The blondes made their way down the stairs to eat breakfast each taking a bowl of oats that was placed in front of them. Chuck took a spoonful and held it in his mouth trying to force himself to swallow the mush, but his tongue refused to co-operate. Another cough wracked through his small frame, causing his mother to sigh.

"Well if you're not going to eat it, get going to school." She groused, making a shooing motion with her hand.

Chuck didn't even want to argue. He was hungry but the narrowed eyes of his father made him want to bolt. "Don't let them waste food like that!" He growled looking up from the newspaper he was reading.

"Well, you eat it then! The kid's been sick for a few weeks now he's probably not feeling hungry." The woman shot back.

"And he wouldn't be sick if he wasn't born weak." The man shot sending a heated glare at Chuck.

"It's not HIS fault we couldn't afford to take him to a doctor!"

"No, it's yours for letting the boy get infected with that bird flu in the first place!"

"Come on let's go..." Jay whispered in his ear nudging him with an elbow. Jay grabbed his sister's hand and the three left the house leaving the yelling parents behind. It wasn't long before they boarded the bus and were on their way to elementary school.

When it came time to disembark however, Chuck found his leg had once again seized up. His brother shot him a concerned look. "It's okay, I think It's just fallen asleep." He replied, willing the limb as best he could, to get it to move.

"Come on kid, get a move on." The driver of the bus goaded, his angry gruff voice causing a panic to filter over the boys.

"Just give him a minute." Jay urged.

"Come on. I got other places to go." With that the driver grabbed onto Charlie's arm and pulled him out of his seat, half dragging him as he is pulled off the bus. Jay just managed to catch him as the bus doors shut and the vehicle peels away.

"Adults are mean." The older blonde huffed.

"Yea," Chuck scowled. It always seemed the adults that surrounded him at any point never cared very much about him. Whether it be denying him playtime or raising a fist to him, it never seemed to change.

It was about midday when the pins and needles feeling returned again, this time however it was in his writing arm. The pencil he was using to scribe with quivered as he tried to force his hand to move. Pain shot down his arm as his muscles sized up, making his arm feel like it was on fire.

It didn't take long for the flare-up to travel. It crept from his shoulder down to his leg once again, making it feel like the whole side of his body was in a vice. He let out a small gasp of pain, as he bit his lip hoping to keep silent. Though a grunt of discomfort escaped him, gaining the teacher's notice.

"Charlie Young? Is there a problem?" The teacher asked looking over the end of her nose at the youngster.

"N-No mam" He grunted out.

The teacher raised a brow as Chuck's already sore throat became dry. "Don't disrupt the class again." She said in clear warning after a moment of appraisal.

It wasn't until lunch that something new happened. He went into the lunch line smiling as largely as he could to the elderly lunch lady, who did her best to smile back. "Meatloaf today dear, and it seems you could use some meat on your bones yourself." She said pleasantly. Charlie nodded eagerly making the old woman smile. "Good child, cookie?" Charlie licked his lips in anticipation.

After skipping breakfast he was incredibly hungry. The blonde child hunkered down at a table and managed to down a good half of his meal before the pins and needles returned. The fork dropped from his hand as the pain shot all up and down his side.

His body felt like it was on fire but a bigger problem had now presented itself.

He couldn't breathe.

Panic rose into his chest as he tried to force his stomach to respond to be able to draw in air.

Then a hiccup.

A bit of precious oxygen came into his lungs and stayed there as if stuck in a bubble. He was unable to exhale fully, and his chest burned angrily, like he'd spent too long holding his breath under the water in a pool.

He vaguely registered someone calling his name but he couldn't focus on that right now. He needed to breathe! Why couldn't he breathe?!

Then as suddenly as it came about, it was gone and he found himself gasping for breath. His whole body ached, like he'd just gone twenty rounds with a trained boxer. Jay's face suddenly manifested in his vision. Concerned forest tinted eyes blinked down at him.

When had he fallen to the floor?

"Chuck! Chuck!" Jay called pushing on his brother's shoulder.

"Okay that's enough, just get him down to the nurse." A teacher called from somewhere but Charlie was too tired to figure out where. One minute he was being hauled up from the floor, he blinked, and he found himself being rushed to the hospital in the back of a noisy ambulance with his brother once again staring down at him.

The people around him all combined into a blur, and soon he was being rushed down the halls of a hospital. Was he on a bed?

Blink.

A hazy woman loomed over him as a needle was inserted into one arm to give him something, while in the other something was taken out of him. He tried to tell them to stop. He wanted the lights to stop flashing by. He wanted a moment to comprehend what was happening.

The cold was pressed into him. Wet towels soaking his skin. When had his clothes been taken? Did the people looming over him care how scared he was? Why weren't they telling him anything?

He shivered, and tried to throw off the icy compresses that were all over his body, he was going to freeze to death if this kept up! He was sure of it! The nurses said something to him, he couldn't make out what it was. It felt like his head was submerged, but he knew she was angry with him.

She put the icy wraps back onto his skin making a noise of contempt. He flailed again trying to warm up. It was too cold! He didn't want to freeze! Why couldn't the nurse understand! Why were adults always trying to force things on him! They didn't always know best!

His blurred brain barely registered the smack across his face as he threw another towel away from his body. The second one that came made his head hurt.

He squeezed his eyes closed, hoping whatever magic had worked earlier would work again and bring him out of this mess. When he reopened them he was in a hospital room, his mother looking down at him with a mix of emotions he couldn't quite place.

He stared at her pleadingly for something, anything, so that he could be able to understand. At least his head wasn't as blurry as it was before.

His father paced at the end of the row of beds he was laying on cursing out every name under the sun that seemed to flutter across his mind. Chuck swallowed, his tongue feeling swollen and almost too large in his mouth.

He looked around the room but couldn't see his siblings. Where were they? He could see plenty of children along the rows of beds, but not the familiar blonde mops that he'd grown to take comfort from.

"Mrs. Young, we have the results back for your son." A doctor announced as he came towards his bed. Chuck took in another hiccup of air as his muscles seemed to seize again. He felt he was suffocating again and the doctor barely gave him a glance! That was their job, wasn't it? To help him? Why wasn't he now? Did he know? Did he see? Or did he just not care?

His mother glanced towards him but remained focused on the doctor. "Polio?" She had gasped out. "No…" She looked upset at that at least. Charlie felt his muscles release allowing him to take another gasping breath. Is that what was happening to him?

More words exchanged between the adults while Chuck took in what little air he could, all his attention going into forcing his chest to rise and fall. It was getting harder and harder. He felt like he wanted to cry, but that would only make breathing harder.

"Hear that boy?" His father suddenly called, pressing an accusatory finger into his aching chest.

"No?" Chuck offered weakly.

"I told you no good would come from playing with those damn dirty Irish brats!" His father fumed. "He got it from them I know it! Now we gotta pay for your medical bills!" Another harsh jab in his chest caused it to constrict once more and he found himself unable to draw in breath once again.

"What do you have to say for yourself!?" Chuck tried to respond but his mouth could only open and close soundlessly. He was barely able to make a squeak. "Pathetic. Boy was born lame you know." His father said to the doctor who merely raised an eyebrow.

Chuck tuned out the rest of the conversation as he struggled to breathe. In a two minute span, which felt like an eternity to the blonde, a nurse came and took hold of the edge of his bed, and began to push him away from the communal room he had woken in.

"Don't worry kid well get ya hooked up and breathing again in no time." The nurse said almost absently as they moved down the halls. His breathing had normalized again and Chuck allowed himself to look around.

They stopped momentarily in front of a pair of large double doors before a new set of nurses emerged. Chuck could almost feel the impending doom behind those doors, and the sight that was within held exactly that.

A giant metal monster came into view and hissed and groaned rhythmically like an angry cat. "It-It's eating him!" Charlie managed to get out upon seeing a brown tuft of hair from a boy sticking out from the end of the machine.

The nurse laughed at his fear. How could she not understand? The boy, hearing a new voice smiled in the mirror above him, an almost excited expression crossing his face. Chuck felt himself being lifted by the women before they placed him on a flat metal slab with a thin cushion at one of the open mouths to the metal beasts.

Charlie felt his heartrate rise in panic seeing the device. "What? No!" He tried to yell but it came out as more of a hissing wheeze. They placed wadded rags in his fists and taped them in place.

He wanted to fight. He wanted to scream. The voices of the nurses all blurred together as they spoke in clipped tones to one another.

His body was betraying him. It refused to respond to his commands.

A spongy foam slip was placed around his neck before the cookie sheet he was on shifted, and he found his head being propped up by one of the nurses. She stared down at him with a bemused expression as his head was shoved through an opening in the large metal circular face of the beast.

Charlie felt trapped in every sense of the word. And his panic only rose further as he realized they were sliding him into the beast's mouth, and straight into its belly. The metal plate around his neck clicked into place and the nurses turned a large dial to lock it. Something out of his line of sight made a wet squishing sound before the air was forced into his lungs.

Chuck blinked. It felt unnatural. A moment later a hiss sounded and the air was forced out again. He could breathe? He wasn't struggling, or suffocating anymore! But he wasn't the one telling his chest to do that. It was both exhilarating and foreboding.

"Your all set!" The nurse chirped ignoring the frightened expression the child had on his face. "Oh here!" She placed a cup of water with a straw by his head, which was the first thing the doctors here had done that seemed to be for his benefit.

It wasn't long after that he was left alone with only the 'whirr hissss' of the machines the two boys were in. Charlie stared upwards into the mirror that was angled above his head. The crushing and vibrating feel of the machine made him uneasy, but at least he wasn't feeling faint from lack of air anymore.

"Hi" The boy next to him wheezed out. An awkward pause followed before- "My name's Peter." Another pause. "What's yours?"

It wasn't until Charlie tried to respond that he realized just why the other boy had such long pauses. The machine that they were locked in, the very things that were helping him breathe, they now had to rely on to talk.

I'm Chu-" He tried only for the intake cycle to cut him off harshly as he made an odd choking noise. He waited until he felt the building pressure before he tried again. "Charlie, Chuck!" He managed to wheeze out.

"Don't worry…. You'll get the hang of it… Once you've been here…. For a while, you'll…. Just know the timing" Peter said, his rasping voice sent shivers up the blonde's spine. "Just be careful… When you take a…. Drink because if you…. Time it wrong you'll….. Pull the water into …. Your lungs and these…. Things make it hard…. To cough"

Chuck had never had more anxiety towards a glass of water then he had at that moment. "What are these… Monsters" He managed out.

"They're called Iron…. Lungs." Peter said proudly. "I'm so happy…. To have a roommate! …You have no idea…How boring it gets…. When you're alone!"

Chuck couldn't at first, but soon, imagine was all he _could_ do, because not two days after his arrival Peter was able to be out of the giant machine on his own. He had recovered enough so that the effects of the virus had released enough of a hold on him, that he was able to be moved elsewhere.

Peter and Charlie had talked a lot though, as there really wasn't anything else to do. With the blackness in the room, the mirror became vastly useless until a nurse came in to turn on the lights.

Peter had apparently been in the machine for almost two months but had managed to recover. He said the doctors got to him quick, and a new medicine they had given him helped him recover. Charlie was hopeful with that news, they were also giving him the drops on his tongue. That is, until he learned that Peter had been allowed out of the machine for about five minutes at a time, multiple times throughout the day, even when he was at his worst.

Charlie was only allowed one or two, and only when the nurses were tending to his useless form. He was never allowed off the sliding cookie tray.

It was agony when they took him out of the machine to change his clothes, or to clean him. He felt like he was drowning on land. The nurses always seemed to take forever, chatting away amongst themselves while he lay there struggling for air, and unable to move his body. Paralyzed and staring up to the ceiling like a gasping fish.

Nights were the worst.

The hallow blackness infringed on him everywhere, licking at his exposed head teasingly. He could only see vague shadows, and the once comforting and rhythmic purring of the breathing machine became the growls of a beast. It was waiting in the darkness ready to devour him.

He thought back to his brother and sister, and how they would watch cartoons on weekend mornings together. They would always play and act out their favourite shows once they had ended. His brother loved the cowboy stuff, while he loved anything with boats and pirates.

His brother always got to be the hero, because he was older he'd say. Charlie always wanted to play captain, and steer their imaginary boat, but instead, he got stuck as a mate. One day he'll take the title of Captain Youngblood from his brother, and then Jay'll be swabbing the deck with their sister.

He imagined the whirring of the pumps and billows were waves, and the metal tube he was encased in was his life raft. He'd just been cast overboard from a sinking ship and he needed to find a new crew to sail again. The vibrations and hissing would slowly lull him to sleep, as his mind danced with images of creaking wooden hulls and dark ocean waves.

Charlie liked when his family came to visit. His brother would excitedly chat with him about all the shows he'd been missing out on, or the cool comic he'd read. Jay had even brought in a Popeye comic and they read it together during the visit.

The pillow that cradled his head was used as an armrest for his brother as the comic was shoved under his nose, in an attempt to allow him to see the pictures better without seeing them reversed in the mirror.

His parents and the doctors talked a little ways away beside him, but the siblings paid them no mind, lost in the grandiose adventures within their minds.

This went on for three weeks. His family would usually visit on Sundays, though Charlie wished they would more often. The nurses were busy and couldn't spend time with him leaving the boy to get lost deeper and deeper into his thoughts.

And while most times it was good, and he could spend his time watching the pictures behind his eyes. Other times, he'd try to listen to the sounds in the room he was in, and focus on the mirror with his thoughts, that wasn't as good...

he'd found it hurt almost as much as when he was taken out of the machine when he felt too lonely. Actually, he'd take the pain from not being able to breathe... at least that he knew would be over sooner rather than later...

He'd also learned it sucked pretty bad when you cry and are unable to wipe your eyes, or really turn over. The tears run right into your ears, making it not only hard to see but hard to hear, and the mucus gets drawn into his throat whether he wanted it to or not.

And so, Charlie quickly found that it was easier to stay lost in the adventures inside his mind, rather than try to keep himself in reality.

After all…

He could run in there.

He could play games in there.

He wasn't lonely there.

He could breathe on his own in there.

Eating was still a challenge. True to Peter's words, he had learned how to time the machine, making sure that he could swallow on the exhaled hiss, so he no longer choked, and yet… Eating had become more difficult.

He found his neck was getting sore, and his back felt swollen. Whether it was from the sponge or the pressure of the machine, Charlie couldn't be sure, but it seemed the nurses had also taken notice. Chuck still hadn't decided whether that was a good thing or not...

The Doctor would come in sometimes and use odd tools to move his body around, to give him some exercise as he couldn't leave the belly of the beast. They said he would get… a trophy? No, his muscles would get one because they couldn't move.

That seemed silly. The thought made him laugh, and he enjoyed the image of sad skeletons unable to win the muscle trophy.

The doctors never seemed to care about his problems, and always seemed to sneer when they ran tests upon pulling Charlie out of the machine. He seemed to hold no sympathy in his eyes, he was just another, of many children, the doc had to deal with.

Chuck got a blood draw for his tenth birthday, a gift from the white-coated man.

His brother had apparently taken the streetcar to get to the hospital to see him, not wanting to wait until Sunday. It was nice to talk to his brother, knowing that he'd risked their father's wrath to come and visit him, but the reprieve from only having the walls and the constant cat-like purring to keep him company was refreshing.

Sometimes it felt like it was only other kids that could really see him anyway... the adults always passed him by like he was nothing. And when they did notice him, he always seemed to wish they hadn't...

It was difficult to make out the nurses today.

Their white and red uniforms seemed to blend right into the cream walls, and the lights all had angel's halos around their bulbs. Everything looked streaky, like looking through a fogged window. He imagined he was in a submarine looking out into the water, the refracting light became sunbeams in the shallows.

That was, until the doctor came in with his parents.

"He's tested positive for the paralytic Poliovirus." The doctor said simply barely sending a glance at the watery-eyed Charlie. "Which means his paralysis is going to be permanent. He'll need to be in the iron lung permanently in order to live."

"Damn it." His father swore. His mother simply looked to him with pity.

"Permanent? … So I'm not gunna… be able to walk …or leave here ev…. Ever again?" Charlie asked his voice hitched in a way that had nothing to do with the breathing machine.

"But I thought they had a cure?" The mother asked confused.

"Ah yes, they have even created and perfected a vaccine for the disease now, but his case is too far gone for any of it to do the boy any good." The doctor said with a shake of his head. "In non-paralytic cases, we have been seeing an almost staggering amount of recovery with the new drugs used, however, once the virus fully takes hold of a patient's nervous system, there isn't much for them."

"It's okay… I'll be okay like this…. I've gotten used to it." Charlie offered. It was true he had gotten used to the machine. Almost seeing it as an extension of himself, something he could transform as needed within his imagination. It had become something of a companion.

"There is still a risk of meningitis." The Doctor trudged on ignoring the child. "His already weakened immune system leaves him particularly vulnerable. The drugs will help, but there's still a chance the virus could directly attack his brain."

"Damn it... Stupid kid had to go and get sick..." The father growled out.

"He's already almost cost us our house paying for all this! It's going to cost another to keep him here for the long haul and I still haven't found work! Especially with all those war vets flooding the market. Just because you fought in a war a little over a decade ago, and got shell shocked you gotta take factory jobs from the rest of us? And the managers give them priority!" The man groused.

"Honey..."

"Don't you honey me, Kristy. We can't afford to keep him here and you know it." He growls.

Charlie watches the adults argue from the frame of his little mirror, getting a foreboding feeling once again. They started talking softly, and Chuck can't make out the words over the sound of the purring machine.

Even from the mirror, he can see his father's expression darken, harden. That wasn't good. He always got that look right before he was about to punish them. His mother was starting to cry too, oh that wasn't good.

"I'm alright... Here really I... Don't mind it at... All" Charlie cried desperately as his father and the doctor approached him, His mother had fled the room, bursting out the doors, flying like a bat out of hell.

"These machines aren't infallible." His father started a clipped tone implying a hidden meaning to his words. "His already weakened body simply couldn't recover." The sugary poisonous tone made the child's heartbeat quicken. "Am I right doctor?"

"Of course. The virus reached his heart and was too much for him." The doctor nodded his own eyes seemed to glint evilly from the overhead bulbs as Chuck felt himself begin to shake. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he sure knew that he wasn't going to like it.

"Sorry son." His father said, an odd look adorning his face. "Living in a machine is no life to have."

"Really though I'm... Okay with this." Charlie urged, his pounding heart now was louder than the hiss and hum of the machine. The father shook his head, almost sadly.

"No please I'm ok-" He was cut off as the machine powered down and the lid his head was sticking through was popped back, sliding out and exposing him to the cool surrounding air.

Charlie went into full panic, finally realizing exactly what his father had meant.

No life living in a machine.

He'd rather his son have no life than live in a machine.

Chuck was once again betrayed, robbed of his own decisions. Why couldn't they just ignore him like they've been doing for the past weeks?

The boy's lips opened in a desperate gasp for air. It was taunting him, all around him yet he wasn't able to get what he needed.

"Please!" He tried to yell. He wanted to scream. He wanted to breathe!

He didn't want to die!

"Trust me, son. It's better this way. You may not think so right now, but it's better for all of us." His father said softly.

It was funny the man had never once tried to be 'soft' with anything when it came to his kids. Chuck knew this wasn't something he could simply beg for forgiveness from. His father acting kind, scared him more than the man's usual brashness. He choked out a rattling gasp as he desperately tried to force air into his lungs.

The pins and needles feeling returned on the whole side of his body and he could almost imagine himself with a hook hand and a peg leg, just like the pirates in the cartoons... Maybe... Maybe this whole thing would just be a bad dream, and if he focused into that fantasy, he'd wake up from the nightmare that his reality was turning into...

His heart fluttered as he panicked further, eyes snapping open only for the darkness infringe into his vision, just like those long nights he spent alone with the machine he'd imagined as his boat.

His father's face came into focus, as he fought against the fire in his chest. Why do the adults get to decide this for him? He knows this isn't right! Why didn't he get a say in this?! The adults simply took over thinking they know what's best! Why is it every time they _did_ take notice of him, bad things happen to him?

He felt dizzy.

The darkness crept further into his vision, and he could almost feel cold arms embracing him as he suddenly felt like he was falling. He thought of the rushing waves of his pirate ship, it always saved him, his breathing machine pirate ship! He grabbed that thought with both hands as he faded.

With one final rattling breath, Charlie's struggles ended and he gave into the darkness, and the cold comforting arms that were wrapping him. His mind flashed with a flurry of images he couldn't begin to hope to make sense of. Then finally nothing. Simply cold and dark. And worst of all? No pirate ship...

"No this... This isn't right! I hate them! I hate them all! I would have been fine to just play pretend in there!" He shouted, his voice sounding strangely hallow and it echoed around the all-encompassing darkness.

Suddenly the cold arms loosened away from him and he could see a bright ...Something in the distance.

It was like a thread, a cool glowing fibre, floating towards him. He grabbed it and it began to whisper into his ear with promises of things for him if he followed it.

The cold embrace came back around him then; it spoke of peace, of comfort, of rest, of love, while the thread promised adventure, the ability to forge his own path, of living out his desire.

He grabbed the string with both hands wrapping it around his wrists and pulled on it tightly. It felt as though in some way he was pulling on his own hair.

"Are you sure?" A voice asked echoing in the distance, it sounded old but kind.

"Yes! I want the adventure I was robbed of!" Charlie shouted out.

He heard a peal of sombre laughter before suddenly he felt like he was being ripped in two. He was the prize in a tug of war, with the chilling arms of whoever had been holding him here, and the glowing strand.

He knew, some guttural animalistic part of him knew... Both sides would get a piece of him.

He held on desperately to the thread and was suddenly flung forward and backwards simultaneously. It was dizzying and it tortured his mind, shattered it took apart his deepest thoughts and feelings and crushed them into a ball...

The laughter echoed in his ears as the thread wound around him crushing him, but at the same time soothing him, as his vision once again went black.

The next time he opened his eyes it was to a sea of green.

And the best part was, he no longer needed to breathe.

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˜Complete˜

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**A/N: ****I'd like to start off in saying I had a second-hand source for some of this info as well, as it was something that my father had when he was only 6. (He was born in the 40s and actually contracted it just as the cure for it was coming into more use) so yea, I embellished some stuff a little for narrative, but if it felt 'extra real' that's why.  
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**I'd love to hear what you think of this though ^_^ so please R&R! **


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